Vodka Doesn't Go Well With Cough Syrup
by TwentyDollarsForANoseBleed
Summary: Kenzi gets sick, and Dyson takes it upon himself to deal with the impossible, insufferable, and utterly irreplaceable mess that is Kenzi with the flu. Denzi. Rating might change in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"God it's like you've never heard of the concept of heating your house. FYI it makes it _warm,_" Kenzi groaned through clenched teeth and pulled the blankets tighter around her body, burying herself deeper into his bed. Dyson gently placed his hand to her forehead, it was as warm as an open fire.

His night had been peaceful up until an hour ago, when Trick had called him saying Kenzi was passed out at the bar and Bo hadn't been answering her phone. Though he had wrote it off as Kenzi just drinking too much and wanted someone to collect the tiny girl, Dyson had dropped what he was doing and broke every speed limit law there was in the process of bringing Kenzi back to his loft.

"Dude. Paws off." Kenzi said, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Reluctantly, Dyson pulled his hand away from her face. After a moment or two, she opened one eye and peered up at him lazily. "Seriously, I'm fine. Give me a cup of coffee and a power nap and I'll be downright chipper."

"You're burning up, white as a sheet, and covered in every blanket I own." Dyson bit back the urge to growl, Trick shouldn't have let her drink in the first place. She was obviously sick, her skin was a ghostly pale color, her voice was raspy and her eyes were foggy. And judging by the way she slowly adjusted herself in the sheets, her limbs were achy and tired. He was going to give Trick the lecture of a lifetime for this. Regardless, Kenzi still opened her mouth to argue, but he could see the way she was straining to hold even a halfhearted glare. "So Kenzi, no, you're _not _fine." Dyson said, matching her glare with one of his own. She held his gaze for a second, before letting her eyes drift shut.

"Wait this is it? Jesus wolfie you should really invest in some more," Kenzi mumbled into his pillow. Dyson turned away from her while shaking his head and started towards his bathroom. He spent the next half an hour rifling through his medicine cabinet and pretty much every drawer in his apartment, only to come up with a rusty thermometer, a half used bottle of Tylenol and expired allergy medicine. Dyson cursed himself, of all the times Kenzi could've gotten sick, it had to be when he was drastically understocked in drugs and when she alone in his care. Well, the last bit didn't really matter. His wolf whined at the idea of Kenzi being left at the hands of anyone else in a weakened state and he knew for sure there was no way in hell that was ever happened. And to be honest, Dyson wasn't sure anyone else could really handle taking care of her. She was impossible, insufferable, in need of constant supervision, but totally, utterly irreplaceable. Dyson didn't want anyone to come within a fraction of a millimeter of the girl.

A loud thud from the next room sent Dyson rushing into it, his meager pharmaceutical stock in hand, only to find Kenzi sprawled out, face down on the floor, three feet away from the bed. Dyson rolled his eyes and scooped up the tiny girl. Normally the way she nudged herself further into his arms and pressed her head against his chest would've been the one thing on Dyson's mind, but the only thing he could register was how uncharacteristically hot her skin felt, and how she shivered nonstop. Dyson tucked Kenzi back into the bed, wrapping the covers tightly around her frame. He made his way to the door of his loft, keeping his eyes trained on Kenzi. The last thing he saw was a blur of tangled black hair nose its way so far under the covers that only the very tip of her head was poking out. Smiling, Dyson shut the door to his loft, fully intent on buying out the nearest pharmacy.


	2. Chapter 2

Kenzi wasn't sick. Sure her limbs were a little stiff, and her throat might be rougher than usual, and her head may slightly ache whenever she even freaking thought, but that didn't mean anything. Hell it was more likely she was just hung over.

"You fall asleep at a bar one time and everyone loses their shit." She muttered under her breath. As much as Kenzi liked being doted on (hey a free foot rub once in a while was not something she'd ever pass on in this lifetime) Dyson's mother hen routine was getting a little stale. Sure she was tired and his bed was warm and Kenzi wasn't really in the mood to put up a fight, so she let herself be pushed down and tucked into bed, but really, it wasn't necessary. A cup of coffee (that was equal parts vodka) and a ten minute nap, and Kenzi would be on her way.

Ignoring the way her legs shook a bit as she stood, Kenzi wrapped one of the sheets tightly around her body (which had managed to become slightly stiff and a little sweaty, even though she was freezing. Stupid biology.) and padded to the kitchen. Starting with his cabinets, Kenzi rummaged through every inch of Dyson's kitchen. It took her all of five minutes, but coffee was brewing and a bottle of whiskey found its way into her hands. Jackpot.

Kenzi broke the seal of the bottle, and lifted it straight to her lips, taking mouthful. It was rough on her throat, but warm in her stomach, and finally her feet were starting to thaw. Kenzi took a second sip, and then a third, continuing until the bottle was less than half full and she was seeing double. She tried to carefully set the bottle down on the counter, but missed it by a few inches. And then proceeded to spend a full five minutes staring at the amber liquid pooling around a pile of broken glass in the middle of the floor. The world was a very cruel, harsh place.

A burning smell invaded her nose, causing it to wrinkle. Kenzi took a step towards the burning coffee, fully intent on dumping it out, when her stomach lurched. Clutching it tightly, Kenzi ran to Dyson's bathroom, only just reaching the toilet when all of her stomachs contents came up. Okay, maybe she was just a little bit under the weather…


	3. Chapter 3

When Dyson walked into his loft almost a full forty five minutes later, sporting bags so large it was almost comical, he almost wasn't surprised. The sheets were torn from his bed, half of them crumbled on the floor and his pillows were tossed about in a disarray, his loft reeked of a burning scent tainted with something bitter and Kenzi was distinctly missing from the scene. Dyson shut the door to his loft, and made his way to his kitchen.

Dyson placed the bags on the counter and surveyed the warzone that used to be his kitchen. His fridge door was hanging open and half the contents were on the floor, the counters were cluttered soaking wet paper towels, and his coffee maker was plugged, but frying an empty pot. So that was what he smelled burning. Sighing, Dyson went to pull the plug of the damn machine and almost ended up with a foot full of glass. And… whiskey. Dammit Kenzi.

Dyson made quick work of restoring his kitchen to its pre-kenzi glory. He was just patting his hands dry with a dish towel when a small groan met his ears. Quickly Dyson made his was over to the bathroom, and gently inched the door open a bit.

"Kenzi?" He called softly. Dyson opened the door a bit more, to find Kenzi slouched against the bathtub, looking pale.

"Oh… hey D-man," She said in a raspy voice, glancing up at him.

"You okay?" He asked, leaning against the frame of the door. It was a courtesy, she obviously wasn't okay, but grabbing her by the shoulders and demanding she tell him exactly what was wrong seemed a bit excessive, despite what his instincts were telling him to do.

"Yeah, just pea-" The rest of her sentence was cut off by her leaning over the toilet and retching. Dyson was on the floor behind her imediantly, his fingers brushing her hair back from her face.

They stayed like that for a while, Kenzi doubled over and Dyson doing his best to keep her hair away from her face with both hands. When she was finished, Kenzi leaned back and slumped against his chest, and Dyson wrapped his arms around her midsection automatically, his fingers rubbing tiny circles into her stomach.

"Dyson?" Kenzi whispered, her eyes sliding shut. She leaned her head back so it was tucked right under his chin.

"Yeah Kenz?" He said in her ear.

"I think I'm sick."


	4. Chapter 4

An hour after admitting she might be a teensy bit sick, Kenzi was eating her words. She was overly warm to the point of discomfort having been wrapped in more blankets than someone with frost bite, her jeans were uncomfortably tight, and her head was pounding more than a sailor on shore leave. Oh and if that wasn't enough, Dyson was constantly trying to shove pills or cough medicine down her throat, and refusing her alcohol to even wash it down with.

"Kenzi. Just open your mouth." Dyson said, exasperated. Like he had any right to be, if the wolf could just take a freaking hint and leave her alone they'd both be better off. Energy-wise, Kenzi was reaching the end of her rope, and Mr. MotherHenWolfHybridThing wasn't letting up on the overprotectiveness. Call her old-fashioned, but Kenzi didn't like the idea of someone watching her sleep.

"Uh uh." She shook her head as Dyson tried to gently push the spoon full of angry red liquid into her mouth. He let out a growl of frustration.

"Kenzi I swear to god, just take the damn medicine," Dyson said through clenched teeth. It'd been half an hour since he made the first attempt at getting her to drink it, but Kenzi wasn't backing down. The stuff should be saved for prisoners who'd earned the death penalty.

"No." She mumbled, pressing her face into the pillows. It was too warm against her feverish

Head.

"You have a temperature of a hundred and two. It's either this or the hospital." He fired back,

and Kenzi looked up at him her blue eyes tired and miserable. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth. Dyson gently pushed the spoon in between her lips, and she fought the urge to spit it all out and gag. Kenzi swallowed it dramatically.

"There, you happy?" She said, rolling over. The blankets were too warm and constricting in the worst kind of way, and the foul taste still hadn't left her mouth. Kenzi just wanted to be left alone with her own bed, her own pajamas and no one to tell her what liquor she can or rather, _can't _have. Which, according to Dyson, was all of it. Sick bastard.

Vaguely, Kenzi registered the sound of feet padding away from the bed. She kicked off the blankets, welcoming the rush of cold air that evoked her too-warm body. She was sweating, clammy and the bright light was doing absolutely nothing for her head. Where were her bitch-shades when she needed them?

She unbuttoned her jeans and shrugged them down off her legs, and tossed the unceremoniously onto the floor, marveling at how much better that felt. The air was no longer invasive and too-warm, and the bed was actually getting a bit comfortable. She leaned back against the mattress, sighing in relief. It didn't take long until she was dozing off in a peacefully dog-free sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Dyson woke up half hanging off his couch with a knot in his neck and an urge to roll over and go back to sleep. Despite having slept way longer than he should have, Dyson was exhausted. He had been up until two in the morning looking after Kenzi, and it was starting to get to him.

It had been a rough night, Kenzi spent most of it tossing and turning. Twice he'd had to pick her too warm body up off the floor next to his bed, and regardless of the fact that she'd spent more time in his bathroom retching over his toilet seat, Kenzi continued to insist that she was fine, just peachy, fit as a fiddle and all the other little sayings that she liked to say. She was grouchy and irritable, unable to sit still for more than five minutes and completely unwilling to humor him even the slightest bit. He expected nothing less from the tiny human girl.

With a groan, Dyson picked himself up off the couch and padded over to the bed. Half the covers were on the floor, and the other half were tangled around Kenzi, who was sprawled out on her stomach. Her tiny limbs were bent in what looked like an uncomfortable position, and her half her face was buried into the pillow. Even all spread out like that, she didn't up even half of his bed.

Dyson gently placed a hand on her forehead, lightly not to wake her, and found her skin much cooler than it had been all night. He sighed in relief and turned toward his kitchen, but her small fingers caught his hand. Imediently he focused his attention on Kenzi, but she just turned her face farther into his pillow, her hand falling to her side. If Dyson hadn't had hyper sensitive hearing, he would've missed the one barely audible word that fell from her lips.

"Stay."

So he did.


	6. Chapter 6

For the first time in the last few days, Kenzi woke up feeling somewhat normal. Well, as normal as you can get with a six foot three fae wolf shifter half lying on top of her. Dyson's arm was thrown protectively across her shoulders from where she was lying on her stomach and it reached all the way across the bed, pinning her down. His leg was planted firmed in between both of hers and his head was buried in her hair. He radiated warmth and Kenzi couldn't move. First world problems.

Slowly she started to squirm out of Dyson's dog pile like embrace, but he just held on tighter. "This is why dogs sleep at the foot of the bed" Kenzi grumbled to herself. She spent the next five minutes squirming and wiggling free of all limbs Dyson, fully intent on heading back to the club house.

Her fever had broken and she could walk more than six steps without vomiting, which in her book checked out as flu-free and a-okay to celebrate, viva la vodka style. Plus three days without eyeliner was a personal form of hell that she was beyond eager to get out of, and not to mention she was a little bit more than relieved to jump off D-man's get well band wagon. Sure, it was nice being taken care of, but after spending most of her days on the streets watching her own back, it felt more weird than good. She was too used to counting on no one but herself, and letting her guard down even for the time being raised more red flags than she would ever let on.

Deep down Kenzi knew he was just acting like this because he cared about her, or rather he cared about Bo and she mattered to her. Whatever his reasons, Kenzi was more than happy when she quietly slipped out of the door, shutting it silently behind her, feeling better than she had in a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

When Dyson woke up, it took him a minute to realize something was wrong. His bed was a comfortably warm level and his head was foggy and disoriented from sleep. He rolled over thinking nothing of it, and buried his face in his pillow, enjoying the way it smelled distinctly of Kenzi.

Kenzi! Dyson immediately sat up, frantically eyeing his loft from his bed, alert and on the verge of going full wolf. Her scent was fresh, but not as much as it would be if she briefly got up to use the bathroom and from what he could tell, no lights were on. His apartment was dark in a peaceful, early morning way and normally Dyson would've enjoyed it, but without Kenzi it seemed lonely and empty and distinctly lacking life- just the polar opposite of everything that tiny girl was.

That sick tiny girl. That sick tiny girl who smelled of a fae shifter. That sick tiny girl who smelled of a fae shifter, but hadn't been claimed. Alone. Dyson's nostrils flared and a growl rose in his throat, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelming panic forming in his chest. Quickly, he sprang up and grabbed the first shirt from his closet, and tugged on his shoes, not bothering to tie or button either. The door to his loft slammed shut hard enough to crack the frame and Dyson swore to himself he was dead-bolting it shut from the inside the second Kenzi was inside it again.


	8. Chapter 8

Despite her shaky legs and faint headache, Kenzi felt way better than she had all week. She was out of the wolf den that served as Dyson's man cave, which was way too hot and oh so boring and into the fresh air and on her way home. There was a stride in her step, and her heart all but ached at the thought of her severly neglected closet (hey, four days is a long time) and she practically glowed imagining all the eye makeup that she had suffered without. Kenzi quickened her pace. She made it about four blocks before it all went to hell.

One minute Kenzi was on the street in all her high heeled glory, and the next she was pressed up against a brick wall, with a meaty arm pinning her shoulder down. Her head ached from where it had collided with the hard material, and her eyes strained from trying to make out the man's face in the early morning light.

He had tanned skin and cold eyes, with hair than fell over his angled face, with a sadistic smirk. The jackhole ran his tongue over his teeth, but all Kenzi noticed how sharp his canines were.

"Oh god dammit. Of all the people to kidnap me I had to get stuck with the fucking Ken Doll wanna be?" A sharp slap crossed her cheekbone, but Kenzi wasn't fazed. She was pissed and this idiot had chosen exactly the wrong moment to mess with her.

"Really? Didn't anyone ever tell you domestic violence is a hard 'no' when picking up girls? Can you hurry this up and mug me already? Places to go, people to see, and I don't really have time for this."

"Shut up," He growled, narrowing his eyes. Kenzi worked up enough saliva and spit in his face.

"Oh you stupid bitch," Ken Doll smiled, his canines lengthening and Kenzi could feel his nails dig into her side. "I was just going to bite you and lock you far, far away, but now, well, you might as well consider yourself dead," For the first time since being pressed up against a wall by a total stranger (seriously, buy the girl a drink first) with huge muscles and a menacing glare, Kenzi was actually frightened. His arms sprouted coarse black fur, and Kenzi felt like her heart migrated to her throat.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and it came as a surprise when two gun shots rang out, and the bullets weren't in her.


	9. Chapter 9

Kenzi's eyes popped wide open as she took in the, ahem, murder scene in front of her. Mr. Douchefae of the year (kudos to him, it must've been hard to rack up that title considering Hale was in the running) was lying first face in the gravel, correction, he was lying _fucking dead_ face first in the gravel and Triggerhappy was leaning against the wall like he hadn't just _fucking shot someone. _

"hey um, I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything since you just completely saved my ass and everything but would you mind telling me who you are… or rather, what you are?" Kenzi spoke, after five minutes of full out gawking at the corpse. The man stepped closer, and it was obvious he wasn't human either (seriously how many fae stalkers can a girl take in one night?). He was dressed in a three piece, pin striped suit and even though he looked no more than twenty, he had this quality about him that made him seem so much older.

His brown eyes had a shiny quality that gleamed like a cats when the light hit him right and his teeth were too sharp. Now that she stopped to think of it, his whole face looked rather off. It was like he was an artist's drawing come to life, not meant to be off of paper or in full detail.

"Child it does not matter. I have business to attend to in a different part of town, and I don't like to think someone with a soul that burns as brightly as yours is to be taken from this world," He said, his voice was deep and smooth but it didn't sound like the words were coming from his mouth. More like they were coming from everywhere and if Kenzi hadn't been looking at him, she wouldn't know it was him speaking.

"My soul? You sure know how to charm a girl," Kenzi said back, sarcasm leaking into her voice. He removed a pocketwatch from the pocket of his vest.

"Yes, your soul," He smiled kindly, but Kenzi got the feeling he thought she was being serious, not sassy. "I specialize in dealing with them. Now I would love to stay and chat, but I must be going. You wouldn't happen to know of a lad called Thornwood by any chance would you? From your lack of shock I assume you're no stranger to the, erm, stranger aspects of life. Any tidbits of information are time saving, as time is certainly not in his favor now,"

Kenzi just stared at him blankly trying to process everything he just said. Thornwood sounded familiar. Thornwood, Thornwood, oh! Of course it did. It was Dyson's last name.


	10. Chapter 10

"What do you want with Dyson?" She asked trying to keep her voice calm. Creepy cartoon come to life with a gun? Right, not a good idea to go send after one of your friends.

"You know this fellow then? Why yes that does help to clear things up. No wonder your aura burns so brightly," He trailed off briefly and Kenzi got the feeling he was talking more to himself than he was to her.

Suddenly, he clapped his hands. "Well, on with it then! Now my dear, have you been experiencing any flulike symptoms? In the last week or so?"

"Um, buddy, what the hell? What about my soul, what about Dyson?" She asked, glaring daggers at him.

"Oh how rude of me. I'm a Psychopomp," He said, like this cleared everything up.

"A whatopomp?"

"Psychopomp. Simply put, I'm a soul guide. We usually specialize in making sure those of a deceased nature find their way in the afterlife, since it can be challenging to find the right domain, what with all the crossroads and regions. Don't even get me started on the lost ones who like to lure others off their respective paths. That might also be why you perceive me this way, this realm is not meant for my true form. In the crossing it gets disoriented and everything shifts and I get stuck with this as a body. But anyway I'm rambling." He concluded, with an apologetic look on his face.

"Um okay, misshaped bodies, making sure dead guys get where they're supposed to, check and check. What the hell does that have to with Dyson?" Kenzi summed up, still suspicious and tired and in desperate need of some god damn eyeliner.

"Ah yes. Well as I was saying, we are guides. Mainly for the deceased, but since you humans have a tendency to outright ignore your destinies, we're occasionally called into the realm of the living to make sure everything gets back on track before it shifts the balance of everything else. That can be quite disastrous, and you wouldn't believe the amount of damage one little change to the world can do. Did you know the Americans won the revolutionary war simply because the king of England refused to wear a purple sock?" He chuckled lightly to himself.

"Ooo-kay. Um. Yeah, question still not answered?" She said drawing the syllables out.

"All in good time my child. So back to my previous question, have you been experiencing any flu like symptoms in the last week or so? It's very important," He said, the all over voice surrounding Kenzi's ear.


	11. Chapter 11

"Um yeah, I was sick for the last few days, how did you know that?" Kenzi asked, completely and utterly freaked out.

"Well as I said, I'm a soul guide. You and Mr. Thornwood's destinies somehow got off track, which we can draw back to the source in a more comfortable setting, seeing as he will be arriving here in a matter of moments," The Psychopomp stated, and like clockwork Dyson came sprinting around the corner.

He stopped directly in front of Kenzi, and grabbed her gently but firmly by the shoulders. His blue eyes searches hers, his face a mask of worry. After deciding that she wasn't going to die, he pulled her tightly to his chest.

"I woke up and you were gone and you're sick and on my way here I heard gunshots and don't you ever fucking scare me like that again," he whispered-yelled in her ear.

"Okay, mom." Kenzi rolled her eyes, but agreed. She'd never admit it, but she felt so much better with him around, it was like this entire mess of crazy was somehow suddenly manageable.

"So, who's your friend?" Dyson asked motioning to Mr. nineteen-fifties casually leaning against the wall.

"I'm not even sure," Kenzi replied.

"Huh?"

"Why don't we discuss it over coffee? You're buying," Kenzi said to the soul guide. She turned back to Dyson and poked him in the chest, "You're going to just love this," She said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

* * *

"_I'm _his mate? But that's impossible! The Norn took away the most important thing to him, his love for Bo! BO! You know Bo-bo, lovely succubus you knocked furry magic bits with for oh, say, the better part of a year?" Kenzi turned to Dyson, accusation in her blue eyes. She took another sip of coffee. The small party of three had taken refuge in the back of some forgotten mom and pop joint in the heart of the city. Kenzi and Dyson shared a loveseat, but it was less than comfortable, Kenzi being perched so far on the edge it seemed like she would fall off if she moved an inch, and even though Dyson had slung his arm casually across the back of the couch, his posture was tense. So far they'd been sitting for twenty minutes across from the Psychopomp and none of it was making even the slightest bit of sense.

"The Norn?" The Psychopomp burst out laughing, and his entire face flickered like a candle for a moment, "That old bat? She does not possess that kind of power child," He said, smiling.

"Wait what? I thought she was this all powerful, grant your deepest wishes or some happy go lucky fae genie shit," Kenzi said.

"Once upon a time yes. The Norn's are gods of destiny, or they were back in the day. A fae such as that is reliant on the beliefs of others for their energy source, but once they leave their home country that connection dwindles severely. Since she is no longer residing in Scandinavian territory and the worship is few and far between these days, she has lost a great deal of sway or influence over destinies. A thousand years ago she was a force to be reckoned with, but nowadays she's more of a collector. Think of her as the mythological equivalent to a pawnshop dealer, if you will."

"Then why doesn't she just go back to Europe?" Kenzi asked. She knew she should be hurrying this along and getting to the part about how her and Dyson were supposed to be, well her and Dyson, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"Well, every fae is reliant upon some other source for their abilities, take the wolf here, for instance. Long ago his kind changed with the moon, which is no small energy source, the moon affects so many things, the tides, growth, lighting in the night, and therefor was a source of many mythological accusations. Overtime, the branches developed and became further acquainted with the dual personalities coursing through their brains, and the humane one grew to be better adapted to survival than the feral, so natural it took up more and more time and eventually harnessed control over the feral, and he can feel it clawing at the walls of his mind all the time, fighting for control. But just because he can now choose when he shifts, does not mean the power source vanished from thin air. If the moon were to somehow be destroyed, the ability to change into the creature you use would evaporate too, and your mental state would be in chaos," The man concluded.

"How do you mean?" Dyson asked, furrowing his brows.

"Just because your wolf, as you say, is gone, does not mean the psychological effect would vanish from your brain. There would still be the dual personalities, but now they would be all out of balance and your wolf side would panic at not being able to release and shift, and then in all power destroy the rational half of your brain in the midst of trying to find it. You would not be able to tell right from left and friend from foe, only that your wolf is missing and you need to find it." He said.

"So how does that affect the Norn?" Kenzi questioned.

"Well, her source of power would be?" He drew the sentence up at the end, and Kenzi still couldn't get used to how weird that was (and she had seen weird. Once you bunk with Russian street rats, there's no going back) hearing it come from everywhere at once. She supposed it was worse for Dyson with his superior dog hearing or whatever.

"Oh! Her tree!" Kenzi beamed, and Dyson chuckled, remembering the chainsaw.

"Very good. She must stay to guard her life form, or the tree, and as the culture shifts, so do the objects with specific attachments. It felt a migration of power here, since it was a new country with passionate citizens all projecting their religions and cultures out. It would be a sensory overload, a longing and a pulling felt by all earth bound fae until they decide to join it." Dyson nodded at the statement.

"So, because her tree felt all the happy pills, it decided to cross and ocean and she's stuck here with it?" Kenzi summed up.

"Precisely."

* * *

Okay, I just wanted to say that I'm so so sorry for leaving a lot of stuff out, i got carried away, and I know you probably all hate me for doing that haha but have patience, all questions will be answered in the oncoming chapters, so bear with me. I love you guys and getting reviews (i actually got the idea to turn this into the Dyson/Kenzi claim mate thing because someone suggested it in a review, so ask and you shall receive, and it was just going to be that but then i was reading mythology and my brain got carried away) so anyway i have big plans for this and i promise to update soon! Love you ALL,

xx

Christina.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11.

"Okay, you're telling me that Miss-leaves-for-brains is scraping the bottom of the barrel power wise. So if she can't take away Dyson's love for our very own succudearest, what the hell happened there?" Kenzi asked, her blue eyes accusing. Mr. Pscycho was close to driving her schizo and Kenzi preferred a monologue to a musical brain wise any day.

"Oh, well that. Love is a tricky emotion, rooted deep in the brain and surrounded with very many survival instincts, though it remains more humane than the rest. Now the brain is a very complex organ, equip with many layers and barriers to reach through, often deeper in the fae- their species having been conscious of magic and the need for protection. It would take careful magic, precise and powerful, and even then trying to uproot the feelings of affection for another that run deeply, well it would be like trying to jam a piece of rope into a sewing needle," The Psychopomp paused and brought his tea cup to his lips.

"So the Norn ain't got shit on the brain. What'd she millionaire match-snatch from furry pants over here then?" Kenzi quipped.

"Since the Norn is lacking in power as you so brilliantly summed up, she possessed no means of any to untangle your afflictions for the lovely Miss Dennis, so how this was possible is the question that remains to be answered. Ordinarily I would have no answer, but seeing as she is a succubus, it helps to clear things up a smidge. Succubae are known for their affliction and involvement with mortal men, usually resulting in death or on a rare case, just a substantial loss of energy. But, if an essence of power, belonging to a particular being of power were to influence the mortal, his molecular structure would be altered in a magnetic sort of way, putting his nerves and drawing his being towards the one whom inflicted this sort of chemistry. He would feel compelled and drawn to her, in every sense of that phrase."

"Wait. So I was Bo's thrall?" Dyson questioned, each word spoken clearly and slowly.

"Simply stated, yes. And that being said, the Norn saw the opportunity to trick you, per say. She never really obtained your love of for the woman, because there was none to uproot. She just took away the piece of your chemical makeup that attached you to the woman, not entirely, just enough to convince your body that there was something missing but it wasn't aware of what it was." He concluded.

"So like if a heroine junkie randomly contracted amnesia?" Kenzi asked.

The Psychopomp laughed. "You amuse me. Bright and clever, but doused in a layer of sass, keep this one safe, you hear? There aren't many like her left in this world. Such a shame," He said to Dyson, who merely smiled.


End file.
